


The Aviatrix

by Geonn



Category: Sanctuary - Fandom
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-25
Updated: 2009-11-25
Packaged: 2017-10-03 17:43:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geonn/pseuds/Geonn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Helen meets another extraordinary woman destined to change history.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Aviatrix

**Author's Note:**

> This was written before Sanctuary added the shot of Helen and Amelia to the credits. It's fate!

_California, 1922._

She appeared, like most of the wonderful things in Helen Magnus' life, out of the clear blue. Quite literally, in this instance. Helen was on the road in California, having hired a driver to take her to the most remote areas on her itinerary. There were abnormals everywhere, and she hardly had the resources to bring them all to her. She was so focused on her notes and correspondence that she didn't even notice the sound of an airplane approaching until it was almost on top of the car. She peered out the window and watched as the biplane skimmed the field next to the road, the pilot's face visible just before the plane returned to the skies.

"Pardon me," Helen said, resting her hand on the driver's shoulder. "Was that a woman flying that plane?"

The driver smiled and said, "Yep. That was Amelia."

Helen leaned toward the window and watched the plane climb. Wisps of clouds parted for her, tearing across the wings when they didn't move fast enough. Helen craned her neck and watched until the little plane disappeared over a bank of trees. She smiled and immediately decided that she simply had to investigate this singular pilot. Helen settled back in her seat and told the driver to make a detour.

When they arrived, they found the little yellow plane standing in front of an open hangar door. The driver said, "Want me to wait?"

"No, this is my last stop for the day, I think."

He pointed out the window and said, "There's a bus stop, but it's about four miles thataway. You're probably better off callin' a cab to come pick you up."

"Thank you," Helen said, and shut the door. She waited for the car to pull away before she turned and walked toward the hangar. She was distracted by the plane and paused to run her hand over the fuselage. It felt warm against her palm, like a living creature, and the touch thrilled her. She was smiling without meaning to, but without forcing herself to stop. Such a wonder.

"Like 'er?"

Helen turned. She recognized the woman as the smiling face in the cockpit of the plane, dressed in a leather jacket and tan slacks. Her hair was cut short, a mess of curls, and she was squinting into the sunshine as she came out to the plane. She gestured at it and said, "That's the Canary."

"Is she yours?"

The woman didn't even blink at Helen's accent, she just nodded and stepped up next to her. "Yep, all mine. Just took her out for a spin. She gets antsy if I keep her cooped up too long."

Helen smiled. "I think it's marvelous. Do you have a license?"

"Not yet. Soon, though. Real soon. You want to take a spin?"

Helen shook her head. "No. I'm afraid I haven't the time. I just simply had to meet you in person. I'm Dr. Helen Magnus."

"A doctor? Well, it's my turn to be impressed." The aviatrix pulled off her glove and held out a dirty, calloused hand. "Amelia Earhart."

Helen took the offered hand. "It's a pleasure."

#

The champagne cork flew somewhere across the room, and both women laughed as the bubbles poured from the top of the bottle. "That's Amelia," Helen said, shaking her head as she held out her glass. "Always sending something into the atmosphere."

"Hardly that, dear Helen," Amelia said as she filled their glasses. She found it amusing to imitate Helen's accent, and Helen found it amusing to watch her try. "Just fourteen thousand feet."

"Oh, well, then," Helen said. "Hardly worth wasting the champagne. Cheers." She tapped her glass against Amelia's and took a drink.

They stood in Helen's hotel room, originally taken for a three day furlough that had turned into a month long visit. All because of the astounding things being done by her new friend. Helen marveled at the newspaper report one more time, announcing that Amelia had, the day before, set a world height record for women pilots. "One day everyone will know your name, Amelia."

"The whole world knows lots of names," Amelia demurred. "Mine will just be part of the pack."

"You'll change the world," Helen assured her.

Amelia said, "Or at least show that it can be changed. Give the next gal hope that she can do the impossible. That'll be enough for me."

Helen smiled and sipped her champagne, watching Amelia over the rim of the glass.

#

Eventually, Helen had to return to the Sanctuary. Amelia returned to flying, earning hundreds of hours of solo flight time despite constant harping by other aviators that she took too many risks. Helen followed Amelia's advances in the world of flight in the newspaper, a constant search for even the smallest article describing some new height or amazing distance that Amelia crossed. Barriers broken, every one. Unfortunately, bad news came in the many letters delivered to Helen in the Sanctuary. She eagerly awaited each missive, taking them immediately to her office to read them in private. Money woes and a forced sale of her plane to make ends meet had grounded Amelia. She attempted college, but couldn't afford the tuition.

Helen and Amelia met in person occasionally, brief visits arranged around Amelia's work as a social worker in Massachusetts, and Helen's travels for work. They became fast friends and, whenever Helen was able, she donated a small amount of money to Amelia's ventures. Amelia always protested, refused the checks, and then finally took them with grim-faced determination to make the money count for something.

Quincy, Massachusetts, was drowning on one of Helen's visits. It was 1927 and Charles Lindbergh had just flown across the Atlantic. Amelia suggested dinner together as celebration, since any aviation milestone was worth cheering. But, as she remarked when she raised her glass, they still needed a woman to do it before it was all said and done.

They weren't able to get a cab immediately, so Helen suggested they make a dash to her hotel. It wasn't far, but they were both soaked and laughing when they arrived in the dim lobby. Amelia escorted Helen to her room and waited for her to unlock the door. Helen pushed the door open, revealing her shadowy room. It was cramped quarters, with a bed, an armoire, a large picture window complete with padded seat all vying for space. Helen's coat hung next to the door, looming next to her like a madman in the darkness as she turned to bid farewell to her friend.

Helen clasped Amelia's hand in her own. "You will be the first. I know it in my heart."

"Well, now I have to do it. I'd hate to disappoint you." Amelia covered Helen's hand with her own. Something about being in Helen's refined presence brought out the lady in her.

Helen laughed and brushed a droplet of rainwater away from Amelia's face. She hesitated, her hand cupping Amelia's cheek, and then she leaned in and brushed her lips against the corner of Amelia's mouth. She tasted wine and the ozone of rainwater as she pulled back. Amelia put a hand to her chest and said, "Helen Magnus. I'm quite sure a lady doesn't do that sort of thing."

"There's a lot of things ladies don't do," Helen said. "I'm quite sure you aim to do every one of them before you die."

Amelia's lips curled into a smile and she put her hand on the back of Helen's head. She closed the distance and kissed Helen hard, teasing parted lips with her tongue before pushing between them. Helen grabbed the collar of Amelia's shirt - unbuttoned, of course, so unladylike - and pulled her into the darkness. As they kissed, they touched and brushed and ran exploring hands along curves. Clothes came undone, and Amelia was the first to suggest moving to the bed.

Helen sat on the edge of the bed, and Amelia knelt in front of her. Helen kept her hands flat on the mattress, watching as Amelia undid her clothes. She leaned in and kissed Helen's shirt above the scoop throat of her underclothes, licking a trail of rainwater that had gotten under the clothes. Helen closed her eyes and put her hands on the back of Amelia's head, twisting the curls around her fingers, gasping when Amelia's lips brushed her breasts through her brassiere.

She parted her legs and pulled Amelia closer. Her dress draped her thighs like a cape, and Amelia's hands moved under the hem and skimmed her thighs. Her skin was cold against her stockings and Helen gasped when fingers touched the bare skin of her upper thighs. She opened her eyes and looked down at Amelia, who was looking at her. Helen managed to nod and said, "Yes," and Amelia bowed her head to Helen's chest again. Her hand moved higher and Helen straightened her spine as Amelia's hand cupped her intimately.

Amelia lifted her head and sucked Helen's neck, kissing and licking and teasing the pulse with her tongue as she massage Helen through her thin underwear. Three fingers working in harmony, brushing the silk against sensitive flesh. Helen rolled her head back and leaned backward, pulling Amelia with her. Amelia climbed onto the bed and settled between Helen's legs, her crisp clothing brushing against Helen's bustier, making quiet shushing noises... or maybe that was Amelia, trying to silence the moans and whimpers issuing from Helen's lips.

"I'm sorry," Helen said, eyes tightly closed, her body moving against Amelia's hand. She dug her heels into the mattress and lifted her lower body to meet Amelia. Suddenly her underwear was pushed out of the way and Amelia's fingers touched bare flesh. She curled her fingers, twisted them, and then two fingers easily slipped inside. Helen gripped Amelia's upper arm, her other hand balled in the sheets, and breathed a silent cry as she reached her climax. Amelia abandoned Helen's throat and covered her mouth in a kiss, thrusting her tongue to meet Helen's as their bodies moved in time with each other.

Amelia kept her hand where it was, despite Helen's gasps and twitching. When her body stopped reacting to the orgasm, Helen sagged against the mattress and let Amelia trace lines over her body with wet fingers. Finally, Helen opened her eyes and looked up at the aviatrix. She blinked, and Amelia smiled down at her.

"Welcome back."

"Thank you," Helen said, her voice a little more than a sharp exhale.

"My pleasure, Dr. Magnus."

"Not yet it isn't, Ms. Earhart," Helen said. She pushed Amelia off of her, rolling until she was pinned to the mattress. "I've been waiting five years for this. I hope you understand if I take my time."

Helen bowed her head and lightly pecked Amelia's lips. She kissed Amelia's chin, her throat, and then her chest through her shirt. She had undone the buttons of the shirt before they reached the bed, and now she took the time to fully explore the exposed flesh of Amelia's stomach and chest. She ran her tongue over hills and peaks, raising her head to watch the trails she made burn with lantern light filtering through the window. She sucked Amelia's belly button, making her squirm and moan and pull at the sheets, and then moved her lips up.

Amelia lifted herself up long enough to take off her shirt and brassiere, dropping them to the floor over Helen's shoulder. Helen cupped one breast with her hand and closed her mouth around the other breasts hard nipple. She sucked, squeezed, and pressed her hips against the crux of Amelia's thighs. Amelia returned the thrusts, her breathing growing harsher and more ragged as Helen switched to the other breast.

She moved her hands down as she explored the breasts she had long fantasized over, undoing the catches of Amelia's trousers. Amelia lifted her hips and Helen pulled the pants down, moving her lips down as well. She again kissed Amelia's stomach, swirled her tongue in Amelia's navel. The sweep drew a sharp gasp from Amelia, and Helen smiled as she settled between Amelia's legs. She put her hands on Amelia's thighs, squeezed, and pushed them further apart.

Helen blushed as she lowered her head, thankful for the darkness. She closed her eyes and kissed a rough patch of hair, brushing her lips through it, and then brushed her chin over the wet flesh below. She hesitated with her lips just shy of touching, her breath washing over Amelia's mound. She wet her lips with a few quick sweeps of her tongue. She slipped her hands under Amelia, cupping her ass, and pulling her closer.

"Well, hell," Amelia said, barely able to get the words out. "If I'd known you were gonna do that, we could've done this years ago."

Helen looked up and met Amelia's eyes as she pressed the flat of her tongue against Amelia's folds. When Amelia closed her eyes, Helen kept her eyes on Amelia's face. She watched the trembling of her bottom lip, the way her brow furrowed and her eyes squeezed shut tighter when Helen touched a certain spot. She formed a question mark with the tip of her tongue, the bell at the top circling the hood of Amelia's clit. She curled her tongue, pressed it forward and inside, and Amelia trembled.

Helen pulled Amelia close, and Amelia put her hands on Helen's shoulders. She hunched her shoulders and looked down, almost panting now, sweat mixing with rainwater on her chest. Helen brought her hand forward and crossed her fingers before easing them inside. She pursed her lips and focused on Amelia's clit, gently twisting her hand as she pushed it deeper inside Amelia, pushing harder, faster, and sucking gently as Amelia continued to thrust against her.

When Amelia came, she put one hand on the back of Helen's head and pressed the other against the mattress behind her. Her body was twisted, rigid, and she gripped Helen's dark hair to hold her in place as she came. When she sagged against the mattress, Helen rested her head on Amelia's stomach and wrapped her arms around her waist.

"Well," Amelia said, and cleared her throat. "Forget what I said about ladies not doing that sort of thing."

"Really?" Helen said. She kissed Amelia's stomach and felt the muscles were still convulsing, weak tremors under the surface.

"Uh huh." Amelia wiped the sweat from her forehead, pushing it up into her hair as she exhaled sharply. "Ladies are the only ones who can do it properly."

Helen laughed and lifted her head. "Hear, hear." She pulled Amelia to her and kissed her lips.

#

A year after her affair with Amelia became physical, Helen was in San Francisco meeting with the head of the Japan Sanctuary. She left her hotel room early one morning, watching the fog roll across the glass doors and thinking of London. She glanced at the newspaper provided next to the check in desk and her eyes caught on the familiar name. She snatched up the top paper and read the headline with a smile spreading across her face. She flipped to page two and saw that the newspaper was giving Amelia the proper respect:

"Boston Social Worker is Sure of Winning Contest with Air, She Declares."

Amelia was over a thousand miles into their journey, well on her way into history. Despite the fact she was merely a passenger, she would be the first woman to fly across the ocean. She paid for the newspaper and folded it under her arm, smiling as she stepped out into the fog.

That evening, when the plane was successfully landed, Helen paid the exorbitant fee to call London from her San Francisco hotel room. The line was full of static, and the voice was full of exhaustion, but Helen smiled when Amelia said, "Whoever this is better be more important than the Pope."

Helen smiled. "I'm not sure if I qualify, Miss Earhart."

"You got lucky," Amelia said. There was a long pause between them, as their voices traveled the amazing distance. "I suppose you're calling to congratulate me."

"Why?" Helen said. "Have you done anything noteworthy lately?"

"What's the word?" Amelia asked. "Cheeky?"

Helen laughed.

"New York wants to give us a ticker tape parade when we get back. I even heard Calvin Coolidge wants to meet us at the White House."

Helen smiled. She knew Calvin quite well. Better than anyone in his cabinet, even. He would be run out of office if the people knew--

"I hope you'll be there."

"In Washington?"

"No, New York. We can celebrate properly."

Helen smiled sadly. "I would love to, Amelia. You know I would. But my work, I'm... I'm afraid I don't know where I'll be. But I will endeavor. I've missed you." She looked at the clock and said, "What time is it there?"

"Almost four in the morning."

"Good heavens," Helen said. "I wasn't thinking. I apologize."

Amelia made a dismissive noise. "You think I was _sleeping_, sweetheart? I'm glad to have someone to talk to."

Helen leaned back on the bed and said, "I wish you were here with me. I'd honor you properly."

"Oh, really, Dr. Magnus. What did you have in mind?"

Helen looked toward the door. "What, you want me to tell you over the telephone?"

"Be better than nothing."

Helen considered it for a long moment and then lifted her leg onto the bed. She closed her eyes and said, "I'm lifting my dress past my knees..."

"Helen," Amelia said, slightly more breathless than before.

"Yes?"

"Talk slowly."

Helen's grin widened.

#

Helen woke to find Amelia sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at her hands. Helen slid across the mattress and pressed herself to Amelia's back. She put her arms around Amelia's waist and kissed her neck. It was 1930, with Amelia using her renown to support her flying career. She had won awards, she was known from one coast to the other, and Helen had no doubt she would solo across the Atlantic by the end of the decade. Once Amelia had a destination in mind, nothing but death could keep her from achieving it. Helen looked at the object in Amelia's hands and smiled sadly. "You must give him credit for perseverance."

"I ain't gotta give him squat," Amelia said, putting the ring back on the night stand. She turned and looped her arm around Helen's neck. She bent down, kissed Helen's lips, and said, "You've been with men before, right?"

"A time or ten," Helen said, smiling broadly. "As have you. You were engaged to Samuel... whatever his name was."

"Broke that off." She looked at the ring. "Could break this off, too."

"Do you love him?"

"I love him enough."

Helen kissed Amelia's breast. "It doesn't have to mean the end of us. I can't be here all the time. I can't even be here half the time. You deserve someone who can be."

Amelia sighed. "He's asked me four times already."

"A man who doggedly pursues his desires is one who will never take you for granted."

"Or he's only interested in the hunt and he'll start looking for the next warm body as soon as I cave in."

"Or that," Helen said. "It could help your career, to be tied to a man like that."

"Tied," Amelia said. She shook her head. "I wouldn't want to be tied to anyone. We'd be partners. Equal. And I wouldn't take his name." She brushed her hand down Helen's stomach. "And I can still see you whenever I'm in town."

Helen twisted her body so that Amelia's hand slipped between her legs. "Those are a lot of conditions."

"If he wants me bad enough, he'll be glad to make them. If not... well." Amelia looked down to watch her hand work between Helen's pale thighs. Helen closed her eyes and writhed under her fingers. "You really think I can fly across the Atlantic by myself?"

"You make me fly every night we're together," Helen panted. "I believe it's only a matter of putting you in an airplane and pointing east."

Amelia smiled and shifted on the bed. She stretched her body alongside Helen's, spreading her legs and craning her neck. As she pressed her lips between Helen's legs, Helen pushed Amelia's thighs apart and mimicked the move. Helen put her hands in the small of Amelia's back and pulled her closer. Amelia's quiet moans grew steadily louder, her tongue more insistent as it explored Helen. Soon, Helen's fingers were pressed tight against Amelia's rear end, her tongue thrusting madly, lifting her own hips to meet Amelia's tongue as they pushed each other to climax.

When they finally, their faces red and lips wet, moved together for another kiss, Amelia brushed Helen's dark hair out of her face and said, "I do love you, Helen Magnus. It's been nine years since you first walked into my life. Can you believe that?"

"No," Helen said. "It feels like a hundred years. And I should know."

Amelia laughed and kissed Helen's eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Helen shook her head and pulled Amelia close. "Nothing. Nothing at all, my dear."

#

Helen grew to adore her brief interludes with the pilot. They communicated often, by mail and telephone, but nothing compared to the wonderful evenings spent exploring new hotel rooms. Helen knew of Amelia's affairs. Brief dalliances with Eleanor Roosevelt and Jacqueline Cochrane were obvious, to Helen's eyes. Amelia flew the first lady, and feigned an adversarial relationship with the rival pilot, but Helen saw through the public games.

She wasn't jealous; far from it. If she was unable to give Amelia what she needed, she was happy that someone else was there for her. It wasn't as if Helen was celibate when they were apart. She spent her time away from Amelia doggedly working for the Sanctuary, with occasional dalliance here and there. Men and women both shared her bed, sometimes together, and she never felt as if she was being unfaithful. But when she and Amelia were together, it was magical.

Throughout the thirties, Amelia crossed the country, broke records, won awards and accolades, becoming quite the phenomenon. She shattered so many preconceptions that it seemed like a natural progression when she announced her plan to fly around the world at the equator. It would be the longest, most harrowing route possible, but Amelia had little doubt she could do it. Her new plane was financed by the university where she taught, and a publicity storm kicked up around her.

When the plane was damaged, Amelia was crushed. She tried to hide it from the press, but Helen knew her lover far too well to be fooled. She immediately set out for California. She was waiting in Amelia's hotel room when the pilot returned at dusk. Amelia was livid, tossing her jacket and hat across the room before she realized someone was there. Her expression softened, but not by much. "Looks like I failed before I even began."

Helen shook her head. "No." She touched her fingertips to an envelope on the table and pushed it closer to Amelia.

"What is that?"

"Financing."

Amelia blushed and said, "I can't take that."

"This is about more than a flight around the world, Amelia. You know what's at stake here."

Amelia walked to the window, hands on her hips, and looked out at the street before. "What happens when they find out I failed?" she asked, her voice a whisper. "All those little girls, all over the world, looking up to me. What happens when they find out I couldn't cut it?"

"They'll rise up, Amelia. They will say to themselves, 'well, if she can get that far, I'll go further.' You will inspire them."

"I'm going to fail them all."

Helen put a hand on Amelia's shoulder and said, "You've already succeeded. Every girl who idolizes you will continue to do so. They will pass on your story to their daughters, and you will live on in the heart of every woman who longs for the stars. Your story might end, but it will be a happy ending. It will be epic."

Amelia took Helen's hand and squeezed. "Thank you. For the money."

Helen smiled. "Of course."

"I wonder if taking you to bed would make me feel like a whore."

Helen backed away from the window, pulling Amelia with her. "Only one way to find out."

#

On July 2, 1937, Amelia Earhart and her copilot, Fred Noonan, sent their last radio message to Howland Island.

Neither of them were ever heard from again.

#

Helen suffered through World War II in the trenches. She spent most of the war in Europe, freeing abnormals from concentration camps and keeping them safe from Nazis. SS squads routinely raided Sanctuaries across the world and Helen was spread thin keeping her charges safe. Resources ran low, and the Sanctuary nearly went bankrupt as the war raged on.

When Hitler was finally defeated, the world took time to heal. The Sanctuary was no different; abnormals displaced by the Holocaust were slowly sent home, while others waited for word on missing family members. Helen suddenly found herself ten years older, although it didn't show on the surface. It only showed in the scars of her memory. Ten years of fighting, ten years of trying to protect a species that humanity wanted eradicated in the best of times. Ten years since Amelia Earhart mysteriously vanished over the Pacific Ocean.

Helen took her first two week vacation in ten years and flew across the world by herself. She rented a small plane in Australia, assuring the owner that she knew how to fly it before taking off toward the distant island chain that waited to the North. The world seemed immense out here, a carpet of unending blue. Threads of clouds hung low over the water, and creatures occasionally broke the surface for a gasp of air before returning to the watery world below. Some of these creatures were fish, mammals, pictures seen in history books the world over.

Some were decidedly more unique.

The small airstrip was hard to see from the sky, but that was how they'd planned it. Helen landed without a problem, shutting the plane down and climbing from the cockpit with a sigh of relief. The day was hot, but she kept her jacket on as she walked down the beach. Footprints marked the sand, evidence of food gathering earlier in the day when it was cooler, and Helen followed them to a small hut hidden under the tree canopy. The frame was metal, salvaged from the body of an Electra airplane. Standing with her back to the entrance was a woman in a silk sarong, her skin burned nut brown by the sun.

"Hello, Amelia."

Amelia turned. She smiled as she walked out of the shade and approached Helen. "Well. I was wondering when you were going to show up."

"Sorry. The world has been a very busy place since you left." She touched Amelia's face and kissed her. Amelia leaned into the kiss, her hand on Helen's hip. When they parted, Helen said, "You look marvelous."

"Me? You look exactly the same, Helen. Don't tell me they found the Fountain of Youth while I was gone."

Helen smiled. "No, nothing like that." She looked over Amelia's naked torso and said, "How have you been?"

"It's been fine," Amelia said. "The transformations aren't as frequent anymore. I think I've found a balance."

Helen nodded. "Good. I'm glad. I've been worried about you."

Her first trip to California in 1922 had been a lark. Reports of a "female abnormal seen flying over the countryside" were hardly conclusive, but Helen had been in the area and decided to silence the nagging doubt in her mind once and for all. The road led her to Amelia, an abnormal just starting to grow into her powers and exploring their limits. The power of unassisted flight was more than Amelia could comprehend, and she was almost giddy with the possibilities. Helen convinced her of the problems it could cause, the fact that she would never fly free if people knew about her. Fortunately, Amelia had already fallen in love with airplanes before her powers manifested, and she was content to using airplanes to get off the ground.

Helen didn't plan to fall for Amelia; she was just making regular visits like she would with any high-risk abnormal. But something was different with Amelia. Something drew them together. And Helen, who had sworn she would never be with another subject after what happened with John, found herself in love.

Things were fine for the first ten years. But then something shifted in Amelia's DNA. It happened first in Canada, and then again in Massachusetts. Amelia woke with a terrible pain in her sides, her back convulsing as she writhed in bed. Nothing happened those first few times, but it was enough to make her call Helen and ask for a full exam. Before Helen could arrive, the full transformation had occurred: Amelia became a leather skinned bird, not unlike a pterodactyl. She maintained human features, but everything else changed. She destroyed a hotel room in her horror, and it took all of Helen's talent to calm her and ease the transition back to normal.

Amelia knew she would never be able to control the transformations entirely. She would be called a freak, and every milestone she made, every award she won, and every inroad she carved for women in aviation would be eradicated. She would be forever marked as strange. She decided that she would end her career in a way that kept her legend alive.

A faked death in a crash would open the door for people to call her a bad pilot, something that may dissuade the next generation of female pilots. But disappearing during a landmark flight would keep her in people's minds for decades. Centuries, even. It would truly make her a legend. Helen agreed to help her with the plan, and they found a suitable island. Fred Noonan was hired as copilot. He was rescued by a Sanctuary team and relocated to a small town in South Africa where he intended to live out the rest of his days in solitude and anonymity.

As for Amelia...

Helen took her hand and walked her back into the shade. "Did I interrupt your supper?"

"There's enough for two," Amelia said. She looked at Helen, her eyes dyed brighter by the sun. "I always make enough for two."

Helen smiled and brushed her hand over Amelia's breasts. "I have missed you, Amelia."

"I've missed you."

"Come home with me. Come to the Sanctuary. You'll be well cared for..."

Amelia looked out at the water. "I thought about it a lot the first few years. I thought about telling one of your supply ships to keep the food and bring me home."

"What changed your mind?"

"Freedom. Freedom to explore who I am. What I really am." She smiled, and said, "It would be great to see you every day, Helen. But I wouldn't trade what I have now for anything." She touched Helen's cheek and said, "Just promise you won't forget about me."

"Never," Helen said. "No one has forgotten you, Amelia." She leaned in and kissed Amelia again, holding her close, feeling the baked skin under her fingers. When they parted, Helen looked toward the bedding at the back of the hut and said, "Will the food keep for, say, an hour?"

Amelia smiled. "I'm sure it will. But there's something I want to show you first."

#

Night fell on the Pacific Ocean, a few hundred miles north of Howland Island. A Japanese boat rolled slowly off course, looking for rich fishing grounds. Most of the ship was asleep, but one man stood on the deck with his elbows on the railing. Later, the rest of the crew would claim he was drunk, that he'd broken into the sake a little too early, but he stood by the story until the day he died. He swore that in the dead of night, lit by the moon, he had seen a dragon in the sky. Large leather wings caught the moonlight like gossamer, and a tail whipped the air behind it. When he squinted, he could almost see another body, a human shape cradled in the dragon's arms. But then he would blink and the illusion would be gone.

The most confusing part, however, the part he was never able to fully explain, was the fact that he'd clearly heard the voices of two women laughing as the dragon twisted and spun through the air.


End file.
